


shiver

by skylights



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Overstimulation, PWP, Sex Toys, no idea how this came about ok then
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:58:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylights/pseuds/skylights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’ll take more than that for Bond to stop though, Bond merely looking up amusedly at Q from between Q’s thighs with a predatory smile of his own, all teeth and just enough humour. This, like so many other things that Bond does, is the push to Q's pull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shiver

Q is on his back, knees drawn up and legs spread open when Bond presses the head of the plug against Q, the faintest exertion of pressure against his opening making Q hiss in response.

"Don't be such a tease," he grumbles under his breath and Bond just laughs, hand braced comfortably against the inside of one trembling thigh. There's something to be said about how Bond's palm, scarred and callous-rough, looks splayed against the soft paleness that is Q.

"Why?" Bond murmurs as he lets the toy trail against the edges of Q's entrance. Always close, but never quite close enough. Lubricant, slick and slowly cooling, is dripping from the bulbous head of the plug. "Are you in a rush to go somewhere?"

Q looks like he's about to snap out one of his trademark, sarcasm-laden replies, but Bond pushes the toy in before Q can start and only sound that escapes from him is a moan, Q’s head thrown back as he’s being filled.

"Not anymore," Q breathes when the plug is seated deep inside of him and Bond can only watch with barely concealed heat when Q clenches down on it, again and again. "I'm sure I have a good reason to reschedule now."

Grinning, Bond reaches out to hook a finger through the ring attached to the end of the plug, tugging gently enough for Q to writhe at the pull, but not for the plug to shift too much from it's place. Barely, and quite enough.

"What did I say about teasing?" breathes Q. " _Bond_."

Bond answers this with a particularly vicious twist of the plug that sees a thin trail of lubricant trickling out in it’s wake and Q would buck at the sensation if not for Bond holding him down, Bond’s hand on Q's torso pressed firmly against the tensed muscles there. Q’s breathing is stuttering under the warmth of Bond's palm.

"You're such a bastard," Q manages out between one sharp gasp and the next. " _Such_ a goddamned bastard, god." Try as he might, Q can’t stop the last few syllables from drawing out into the smallest of whines when Bond bats Q's hand away from his cock, Bond pressing one fine-boned wrist back into the mattress.

"But I don't see you complaining,” is all Bond says, calm as ever. He lets go and Q's hand stays where Bond put it, even if Q does bare his teeth and honest to god _growls_.

It’ll take more than that for Bond to stop though, Bond merely looking up amusedly at Q from between Q’s thighs with a predatory smile of his own, all teeth and just enough humour. This, like so many other things that Bond does, is the push to Q's pull.

The slide of skin against skin is a slow burn when Bond moves the hand has has on Q’s torso further down still, knuckles brushing featherlight against the swollen head of Q's erection before he wraps his fingers around it’s girth. One, two, three strokes is all Bond consents to give this time around before he lets go, leaving Q to arch his hips up in a desperate need for more than Bond wants to give right now.

“Fuck you,” exhales Q in a rush the moment the Bond's grip is gone, Q trying to prop himself up. “Bond I swear to god...”

No matter.

Q, Bond has learnt, is all bark and no bite at times like these. The threats he makes. The names he calls Bond. The sharpness in his voice and the fevered haze of need-want-lust in his eyes, unattended cock smearing pre-come against his belly.

All of this amounts to nothing when the only thing Bond has to do to reign Q back in is gently push Q back onto the bed, lean in with his lips ghosting Q's and say, oh so very softly against the curve of Q's mouth: "I don't want you touching yourself tonight."

And Q grips the bed sheets almost hard enough to rip.

 

* * *

 

Metal toys are Bond's favourite kind. There's a certain kind of smoothness to them, cold and unyielding, that no other material can seem to mirror. Also, the fact that when Bond touches the vibrator to the plug and can almost practically _feel_ Q shake apart at the sensation certainly adds to the preference.

"Fuck," Q is saying as he writhes, hands fisting the sheets now and knuckles gone pale with how tight he’s holding on. "Bond, _please_ , oh god."

Bond smirks as he nudges the plug a little deeper with the vibrator and the metal hums in response, Q's toes curling when Bond flicks at switch that sets the vibrator working at a higher pace.

"Nothing to say about teasing this time around?" he asks with a touch of innocence in his voice.

Q looks up with narrowed eyes and the look of sheer murderous intent on his face is enough for Bond to laugh, Q's facade crumbling a moment later as well at the sound.

"You're lucky I like you enough to let you do this," Q mumbles as he allows himself to be shifted, Bond rearranging Q so that the latter is no longer on his back but on his knees instead, legs spread and hands braced against the headboard. "Anyone else and they'd be dead,” he adds over his shoulder.

"Anyone else and I'll kill them myself," says Bond in a very matter of fact tone and Q huffs, something like a short laugh of his own that soon enough tapers into a groan when Bond moves the vibrator to rest against the base of Q’s cock, occasionally straying to where Q’s balls hang heavy. “But lets not talk shop in bed, hmm?”

With Bond moving the vibrator up and down the length of his cock, Q is inclined to agree, having dropped his head against one arm and hidden his face there, back arching into a smooth bow that Bond’s body fits easily against. Chest to back, Bond has his arm around Q’s front and one hand is curled loosely, almost possessively, around the base of Q’s throat.

Q closes his eyes as leans into the touch.

“I want you to fuck me, Bond,” Q murmurs at length, sighing when Bond presses his lips to the curve of Q’s neck to mouth at the patch of skin just under one ear. “Please.” Q turns his head then, pupils blown with want in the warm light and Bond lets the length of the vibrator come to rest against the hard line of Q’s cock, nestled against the base.

“Hold it against yourself the entire time and I will,” says Bond in a low, rough voice. A shudder passes through Q at the order, the way Bond sounds when he's like this, but Q loosens a grip on the headboard all the same, one hand moving to where Bond is holding the vibrator. Almost callously, Bond pushes the setting to the highest it can go before pressing it into Q’s hand and guiding it back to line up with Q’s prick.

“Don’t move it,” he says when Q’s hand jerks instinctively away at the sudden recontact and Bond has to wrap his hand around Q’s to keep it there, pressing it flush against the underside. “ _Don’t._ ”

The hitches in Q’s breathing have turned to near sobs by the time Bond takes his hand off and Bond is unable to resist thumbing at the wet head of Q’s penis before he draws away, Q making a small, breaking sound at the sudden pressure against his slit.

“More fucking, less teasing,” Q grits out, body strung tight. “And sooner rather than later, if you don’t mind.” This earns him an amused huff and a light flick against one nipple in retaliation, but Bond draws away for real soon enough.

"Might I remind you that you're in no real position to be so demanding?"

Bond doesn't wait for an answer though, just eases the plug out and starts to guide himself in to replace it, pushing into Q inch by maddeningly slow inch until he’s sheathed deep to the hilt. A warning nip to Q's shoulder reminds Q to keep his hand steady and Bond makes a pleased sound at Q's sharp inhale.

“If you drop it–” Bond says against Q’s ear just before he finally, finally starts to move, “–I’m going to pull out.”A whimper confirms Q's acknowledgement of this and Bond can’t help but still for a few seconds in Q’s tight warmth, just to feel Q clenching around him, accommodating and urging him on.

“Good,” breathes Bond. “It would appear that we have an understanding, then.”

Every move is deliberate, the roll of Bond’s hips calculated to have only the tip of Bond’s cock left inside of Q before he slides back in, deep and long, more than enough to make Q spread his legs wider still to accept every thrust. The rhythm that Bond sets is a slow one and even the litany of curses that Q mutters under his breath isn’t enough to make Bond change it before he wants to, Bond reigning in his own control until there’s sweat starting to bead in the small of Q’s back, until his own movements are stammering and growing erratic.

“More,” Q is begging when Bond slams back in a little harder than before, previous concentration starting to fray. There’s a sense of hyperawareness to everything now that Bond has tightened his grip on Q, hand cradling the downward slope of Q’s neck and arm wrapped tighter around Q’s chest. “Bond, for the love of god–”

Again, again. Bond is panting as he snaps his hips forwards, faster, harder still, and it’s like having an added sheen of awareness cast over everything. The way Q’s throat moves as he gasps Bond’s name. The overwhelming sensation of being _inside_ Q like this, fucking into him and hearing the wet sound of Q taking Bond’s cock in.

And of course, underneath it all, the ever-present hum of the vibrator, Q jerking helplessly against him when Bond reaches down and finds that Q’s hand hasn’t moved in the slightest.

“Oh god,” sobs Q when Bond rubs at the head of Q’s cock, rolling his palm across the tip before pressing his thumb against the slit. “Bond don’t, I’m going to come if you keep–”

“Then come for me,” Bond breathes, twisting his hand _just_ so and Q lets out an almost pained sort of sound as Bond works Q’s orgasm out of him, thighs shaking when Q comes in warm, heavy spurts into Bond’s waiting palm. Bond is halfway sheathed back into Q when it happens and the sudden tightness around his cock, the quick clench and unclench of Q’s muscles as Q comes is enough to make Bond thrust himself in the rest of the way with a groan, riding out Q’s pleasure with his own.

There’s a faint tremor making its way across Q’s muscles now that Q is spent, Q’s hand that holds the vibrator clutching at the toy so very tight that for a moment, Bond thinks he won’t have to make Q hold it there, but Q’s fingers are already loosening, about to let go and that is when Bond stops him.

“Did I say I was finished?” Bond says hoarsely even though the warm pressure building behind his balls is sign enough that it won’t be long until he is. “The _entire_ time, Q.”

The next breath that Q draws comes as a sob, and the next and the next as well, but oh Q has a talent for obedience, the vibrator not moving from where it’s still pressed cruelly against the overstimulated flesh of Q’s cock.

“Too much,” Q gasps when Bond swipes the pad of one finger down the side of Q’s shaft. “Bond, fuck, I can’t, it’s too much, oh god too _much_.”

But he can and Bond knows it, loves to see the way that Q can push himself like this, how Q’s iron-clad will still have him hold the vibrator to himself even when his cock must _hurt_ with how painfully sensitive it is now, Q shivering with the effort. It won’t be for too long though, not when the sight of Q so completely undone and needy by Bond’s hand, so absolutely willing like this is about to push Bond over the edge.

“I’m going to come inside you and then you can let go,” Bond says into the damp skin of Q’s back when he can feel himself getting close, teeth grazing one shoulder blade. “Q–” He bites down as he thrusts in deep once more and _comes_ , the force of it enough to make Bond let out a muffled shout as he empties himself inside of Q. Bond doesn’t draw out completely when he’s done, instead pulling out a little and pushing in again a few times while he’s still hard, just to feel the last few dull jolts of pleasure give way to something a little more like an ache.

Warm come trickles out after him when Bond slips out of Q, running down the back of Q’s thighs and Q finally lets go of the vibrator with a groan, the toy falling to the mattress where it continues to hum, muffled. His cock is still twitching even as it starts to soften.

“Remind me again why I even listen to you?” Q asks a little wearily. He's being urged off his knees and onto his back, Bond a warm, tired body pressed up against him after having turned off and dumped the toy somewhere. They’ll have to get up in a minute to clean off, but Q can’t really be fucked at the moment, Bond appearing to share the same sentiment when neither of them make any move to sit back up first.

“Because you’re a tremendous masochist who’ll make me do this anyways?” tries Bond. “Because this way, you won’t make the next person doing your psych evals uncomfortable enough to cry?”

Q laughs despite himself, one arm thrown tiredly over his face and Bond’s own arm a comfortable weight resting across his torso.

“As if Psych wants to know anything about this,” Q says from beneath his arm, shifting with a grunt when Bond moves next to him. This is the point in proceedings where Q feels like someone has replaced every single bone in his body with lead and heavy as his limbs might feel, it’s not exactly a wholly uncomfortable kind of exhaustion.

“Psych _wishes_ they knew anything about this,” Bond counters. He has one finger tracing an aimless pattern on Q's skin, skimming the curve of a rib bone. “Psych would also pay actual money to see anything remotely close to this as well.”

“And you know this for a fact?”

“Might have received some offers. Or made some of my own. The details are a bit hazy now, to be honest.”

Q is far too tired to punch Bond in the arm like Bond deserves, insufferable man that he is, but he does end up with Bond's chin resting on his shoulder, which isn't a very bad alternative. They really should get up soon if they want to wake up not disgusting in the morning.

"Make any offers without me knowing next time and you'll regret it," Q says as he tries to convince himself that five more minutes lying like this won't do anyone any harm. "God knows you have no monetary sense whatsoever and will underprice everything."

"So that's a yes to traumatising Psych and some additional pocket money on the side, then? Win-win for everyone?"

Bond is smiling, Q able to feel it when Bond is fitted this close to him.

"Well that would all really depend on whether or not you have performance anxiety in front of a camera, since we all know how-" Q is starting to say but a pillow to the face and Bond tackling him almost out of bed is enough for the rest to end in a muffled yell.

**Author's Note:**

> So in between smoothening out the plot for another fic and doing nothing in particular, it suddenly seemed like a good idea to write this? Uhm okay I'll just remove myself before I start rambling, it's 5am here and I'm posting this from my phone god above I hope that explains the horribly unimaginative title and any glaring errors, sorry!


End file.
